Killing Katniss
by glanmire
Summary: The Hunger Games are held in a mansion, where all the tributes live together and slowly kill one another as they try to accumulate points and make it out alive.
1. Chapter 1

It was a sprawling mansion of a house. There was a pool out back and the staircase split into two winding spirals. Girl's rooms were on the left, boy's on the right.

The whole place was rigged with cameras, but not the visible kind that used to hang in the corner of rooms like spiders. These days, the walls were made of cameras, recording all.

The concept was based off those old two-way mirrors, and the tributes only saw brickwork and tiles, yet the walls saw all and broadcast every detail to the nation.

Never had the phrase 'The walls have ears' been more apt.

The kitchen had all the usual utensils. The knife that Clove used to dice onions could be the one embedded in your neck later that night. Thresh carried the sack of potatoes with ease, and hefted it onto the counter, and Marissa imagined him grabbing her and cracking her head against the wall with little effort.

The daily announcement came on. There were no speakers to be seen, but the words filled the air around them nonetheless.

"Tonight, a dance will be held. Best dresses for the ladies and best suits for the men. Points will be awarded for style and dancing ability."

They had two hours to get ready. The group dispersed almost immediately, dinner forgotten.

Razors scraped up and down legs, makeup was smeared across faces, grins were plastered on. She watched Glimmer style her hair with a straightener, a convenient weapon, and then apply lipgloss, which was not quite so deadly.

Katniss undid her tight braid and her hair spun out from her skull in loose curls. She sat on the edge of her bed, petulant, unwilling to put on more makeup, and clearly uncomfortable in her dress, though Marissa thought it was beautiful.

The other girls chatted happily, as if they weren't all going to kill one another eventually. It was fascinating to watch, but not so comforting to think that she might be one of the dead ones come next week.

Some of the tributes were at a distinct disadvantage, and not just self-induced like Katniss. Girls like Rue were just too young to look like anything special in a dress. She looked pretty sure, but no one voted for pretty. Marissa didn't feel very sorry for her. More points for the rest of them.

She put mascara on her own eyes, knowing that her red lashes didn't stand out enough for Capitol tastes, and surveyed herself. She wouldn't rank anywhere near Glimmer, but she didn't look too bad either. Her district partner better look good.

Of course, even their preperation would be broadcast. Viewers with voyeuristic tendencies liked to watch the teens preen themselves, and what was the point of the Games if not entertainment?

She danced with the boy from her district that night. It was easy, and she fell into step with him as if they'd been doing it forever. One of his clammy hands held her lower back, the other the back of her neck. She thought of how he could snap it easily, if he was so inclined. He wasn't. He was weak.

Katniss and Peeta held one another like lovers - which wasn't unheard of, not at all- and she had her head on his shoulder, whispering into his ear softly.

Twelve probably thought she was being clever, and she would fool the viewers, who presumably thought she was telling Peeta how much she loved him. As if. They were planning, plotting.

One of the girls she didn't know very well slipped in her heels, went down, splaying her hands in front of her. When she stood again her palms were cut and dirtied. Weakness. She blushed.

Marissa eyed the fairy lights that decorated the garden as she and her partners spun in slow circles. They could be wrapped around a throat easily enough, she reckoned, and you could then choke someone with a good sharp tug.

She knew every household in Panem was being forced to vote now, for Best dressed and Best couple. You couldn't vote for your own district's tribute, of course.

Her mother was watching at home right now, and voting for someone else. Katniss laughed in Peeta's arms and Marissa thought she knew who would win Best couple.

Tonight's winners would get a couple of hundred points, and points meant everything. Every child between twelve and eighteen was put in for reaping, but you could buy your way out for a year if you had the points. You could actually buy your way out every year, but only Capitol citizens had that kind of wealth.

Clove and Cato made an odd pair. She was lithe yet sharp, and he was just muscle with a mouth. Marissa didn't underestimate them though. They were extremely dangerous, but she reckoned she was under their radar for now. For now, they just wanted to kill the Twelves, and for good reason.

After two weeks, whoever was still alive walked out of the house, with whatever points they had accumulated over the fortnight.

When someone was killed, their points were divided between the group.

The smaller the group left, the more points per person everyone got per death.

So there was a great incentive to kill the slow low-ranking members who wouldn't put up a fight, and an even fiercer one to kill those with more points later on, so to get a greater share of the points yourself.

Katniss and Peeta were actually pretty safe for the first week, because no one wanted to kill them this early on and only get a small dividend of the points. Marissa hoped that Katniss was planning something good for next week though, because things were going to get fun.

Twelves won that night, as expected. Cato and Clove were furious, yet restrained for now, as expected.

And the girl who had fallen in her heels was found the next morning floating face-down in the pool, as expected.


	2. Wardrobe

Though they all had various weapons hidden away, there was no real bloodbath. Kill someone in front of the others, and they could all turn on you at once. Instead they kept an uneasy peace when they were in large groups, smiling.

Killings still happened once or twice a day though, to those stupid enough to fall for traps, and leave themselves alone in a room with someone else. Not traps with wires and nets obviously, but ones with words.

Rue was sitting on top of the wardrobe when she saw her first one.

She liked the top of the wardrobe. She felt safe up there. No one else could climb up it without toppling it.

The other girls had left the room, except for Glimmer and this other brown-haired nobody from eight or nine, Rue couldn't remember.

Glimmer was talking to her excitedly, tousling the girl's hair, saying how she could style it if she wanted.

Rue lay down flat on top of the wardrobe as they walked in the room and she stayed as quiet as she could. She didn't trust Glimmer very much, and didn't know the other girl at all.

The brown-haired girl was smiling. She'd probably thought that she'd made a new friend, and with an alliance with someone like Glimmer, that she had massively increased her odds.

They laughed and talked and Rue thought that maybe she was mistaken until Glimmer suddenly yanked the girl's hair back and shoved the hair straightener down her throat.

It was turned on.

The ensuing struggle, with the girl gagging on the searing, burning straightener and Glimmer holding her down in place was the most horrifying thing Rue had ever seen. She didn't mean to, she didn't, but she screamed.

Glimmer was over to her in seconds, and Rue figured out what she was going to do the moment before she did it and she curled herself around the wooden rafter above her and held on as tight as she could.

Glimmer pushed the wardrobe and it clattered to the ground, but Rue was still out of her reach.

Katniss appeared in the room then, obviously drawn in by the noise. She took the scene for a second; the dead girl on the floor, the toppled wardrobe, Rue holding on to the rafter, too afraid to swing herself around and on top of it in case she fell, Glimmer standing below her looking vicious.

For one horrible moment Rue thought Katniss was going to leave her to her fate, but the older girl stood her ground.

"Glimmer, is there a problem?", she asked.

Glimmer stared back, defiant. The straightener was never going to work again, and there was nothing within arm's reach that she could use as an improv weapon. Neither of them moved.

Rue wasn't sure who would win in hand-to-hand between the two of them, and clearly they didn't either. Both Katniss and Glimmer liked to have the advantage, and this was too clean-cut, too unpredictable. They mantained eye contact, but the moment was lost, and Glimmer stalked out of the room, obviously deciding not to risk it.

Katniss didn't quite run over to Rue but she moved fast and opened her arms.

"I have you, you can let go now."

Rue's arms were aching and maybe it wasn't the wisest thing to trust Twelve but she had just stuck up for her and Rue gave in and let go and fell into Katniss' arms. They collapsed onto a bed, laughing, and it sounded more heart-felt than the laughter between Glimmer and the dead girl moments ago.

Rue got quiet thinking about it and Katniss wasn't stupid, she caught on quick.

"Don't look at her. Don't", she urged, but in a gentle way.

"That's not going to happen to you, I promise."

Rue didn't know what Katniss saw in her, why she was being so nice, but she relaxed and forgot about Eight or Nine or whoever she was. There was plenty more of that to come, and Katniss wouldn't always be there to save her. She was going to have to toughen up.


	3. Pepper and Steak

Peeta went outside to get some air. He just needed a moment.  
It was quiet but faint giggles punctuated the air from over by the pool, and he did not need to investigate to know who it was, or what was going on.

As one of tributes with the best physical advantage, Cato drew a lot of attention. If you were looking for an ally, he was considered a good choice.  
Because of this, some tributes, but predominately girls, seemed to be willing to do quite a lot to earn Cato's approval, more than their parents would be strictly proud of.

Peeta turned to go back inside, disgusted, and accidentally caught a glimpse of them.  
Cato was leaned up against the wall, his broad hands cupping the girl's head, and she was on her knees, bare legs glinting in the low light.  
He smiled at Peeta from where he stood, and it was the smile of a man with power.  
Cato did have power. He could snap the poor girl's neck when she had finished, if he was so inclined, but he probably wouldn't. Why kill someone who was easy, who was so willing to- help him out. Might as well enjoy their company for a little longer, now that would be how the mighty Cato would see it.

The arrangement sickened Peeta, and he returned to the house.  
In the kitchen, Clove was cooking with Thresh, which was hilarious if you were into that dark who's-gonna-kill-who kind of humour.  
"Do you think that the meat is done?" Clove asked Peeta with a smile. Her dark hair was pulled up off her face, an apron slung across her lithe body. She looked like a picturesque girlfriend that you could have a flour fight with.  
Where Peeta came from, flour was precious, and not to be wasted in a bout a flirting for the cameras.

"Well, what do you think, Baker boy?" she asked him, biting her lower lip. "Surely you must have a better idea about cooking than the rest of us."  
That was a jab concealed as a compliment, Peeta knew.  
"We don't cook many steaks in the bakery Clove," he answered, equally condescending. Two could play that game.  
Thresh's mouth was a thin line and he didn't add to their verbal spar, but kept on dicing peppers. Slash slash and a red pepper split open like a mouth.  
Clove followed Peeta's gaze.  
"Yeah, I would have preferred to do it, but he wouldn't let me near the knives," she said sadly. So Thresh did have some smarts under all that silence.

Peeta was silent too as he looked at the meat. Cuts of steak bubbled in oil, still shades of red, pink, all bloody. He pulled back quickly, just as Clove slid closer.  
She was possibly going to push him into the boiling oil, though Peeta outweighed her and anyway, Thresh was there; though whether he would intervene was another matter.  
"Whadda think?" she asked, staring at him, eyes glinting.  
Peeta trusted Katniss, who couldn't act for her life and whose emotions were clear on her features. He did not trust this girl in front of him.  
Clove was an actress, a murderer, a flirt.

He took the handle of the frying pan and shook it gently. The steaks slid from side to side, the oil spilling a little.  
Clove leaned just a fraction back, and Peeta was awfully tempted to dump the contents onto her pretty head and shut her up, permanently, but he did not. He put the pan back.  
"Needs another minute," he said neutrally.  
"I thought so," she replied. Did that mean she thought the steaks weren't done, or that she knew he wouldn't have the nerve to attack her?  
Peeta was getting sick of all these double-meaning conversations, barbed looks.  
You learnt a new language here; words and phrases that all meant I-won't-kill-you, Let's-team-up or what-are-you-willing-to-do?  
He wasn't willing to do a lot. He didn't think that that would help him pass Cloves' little test, but he found he didn't give a damn.  
Peeta went to go back outside, but caught himself just in time, and left to find Katniss instead.


	4. Bathroom

The brutal truth of it was that if you wanted to get out, then others had to die, and that was an ideology that Glimmer was willing to accept.  
So here she was, hosting a little informal meeting of the greats in a white-tiled bathroom. Cato sat there, silently, a dumb brute, Clove beside him. They were the a Careers, the best of the tributes, and on top of that they had Katniss in common; she was an anathema to them; they loathed her with unprecedented anger.

This was their moment after all, they had trained for this all of their lives, and Twelve was stealing the glory. Hadn't Cato had lifted his weights, Clove sharpened her knives, and Glimmer made herself a deity on earth? Didn't they deserve more points than this, not just Katniss' leftovers?  
Glimmer was a thing of beauty, a modern masterpiece, and looking like she did took time and preparation. Even now, as they talked, Glimmer was in the bath. There were no suds or bubbles to conceal her naked body, and she did not care. This was her talent, and by hosting the meeting in the bathroom, she had ensured that the cameras would display her talent, the craft that was her body.  
Did Katniss show any of that appeal, did she even care about what she looked like? No, the idiot didn't.

"Thresh," Clove continued. They were ticking off a list of who was left, noting potential allies and scheduling the deaths of the others.  
"Assets- well he's strong. Imposing," Glimmer said. "So am I," Cato muttered, "We don't need him."  
"Then how do you propose we get rid of him?" Glimmer asked sweetly. "It's going to have to be a stealth attack- I know you're superior in a fight Cato," and she winked at him, "but why risk it if we can take him down from afar?"  
Glimmer was keeping Cato on a leash with all those winks and smiles. She saw the way he looked at her as she massaged her legs in the warm, clear water. She could make him do whatever she wanted.

"Alright, we'll come back to him. So far that's Thresh, Rue, Marissa and Katniss left to kill, and only Peeta to keep," Clove stated.  
"I still say we kill him too." Cato countered.  
"Listen," Clove said in a voice like steel. "We dispose of all the others bar Twelves first, okay? And then we kill Katniss but keep Lover Boy around. He'll still have his half of their all points, right? And if we're gonna be honest, he's popular, even without her. Folks at home love his homey salt-of-the-earth act. He'll keep on clocking up points until the very last night, and then that's we kill him and get the most possible out of it."

Neither Glimmer nor Cato dared argue with that tone. There was a silence, and then Glimmer said, "Okay, sounds good to me. You can leave now," and she began scrubbing herself with soap.  
"I don't think so," Clove said.  
Glimmer sat up, and her wet hair plastered to her. Rivulets ran down her front like tears. "What do you mean by that, Clove?" she asked, her voice not so sweet anymore.  
"I mean," Clove said, her eyes flashing dangerously, "Cato and I have talked it out, and we asked ourselves, what does the lovely Glimmer bring to the table? Why do we need her? She's just another dumb bitch like Katniss if you ask me, but without all those points at that."

Suddenly the bath water seemed very cold, and Glimmer was aware that goosebumps covered her skin. Her nipples were hard and visible through her wet hair. She left go of the soap and smiled at Cato. He was her escape hatch, he'd get her out of here. Clove was just testing her.  
"You can't be serious Cato," Glimmer said softly. "We haven't even had any fun yet. Clove, you go on ahead. Cato will stay here a while, won't you Cato?" She bit her lip gently and looked up at him.

Cato spoke in his stentorian, rumbling voice. "I don't think so Glimmer," he said, echoing Clove. "You're just a whore like all the others. Selling sex just isn't good enough at this stage in the game."  
He approached the bath and now Glimmer was deathly afraid. She screamed, and he slapped her across the face, hard.  
"No one's gonna come rescue you Glimmer," Clove told her. "They all hate you. They'll be glad to see you go. You were gonna kill them anyway, so why should they come running now?"

Cato grabbed her by the arms, his grip unbreakable, and pulled her out of the bath and threw her onto the bathroom floor. The tiles were cold beneath her naked skin and she pushed herself backwards, her hands still slippery from the soap, and she scrambled looked for something, anything to use as a weapon. Cato pushed himself on top of her and pinned her arms and legs down. She squirmed and struggled but could not shift his weight.  
"Look at you two. It almost looks like you're two lovers. How romantic," Clove said flatly, standing over them.

"Wanna have some fun with this one Cato?" Clove continued, as if Glimmer wasn't even there. "I was just waiting for you to ask," he replied and they laughed and Glimmer realised how desperately wrong she'd been, and struggled and kicked, but Cato was unrelenting. She bit at his ear and he only laughed more.  
"Yes, murdering you is going to be quite a bit of entertainment," Clove said almost to herself, and Glimmer screamed and kept screaming.


End file.
